


No More

by CalicoYorki



Category: Homestuck
Genre: For Your Consideration, Gen, I Found This Cathartic To Write, Random Sadstuck, Sadstuck, Self-Mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 07:50:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/524904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalicoYorki/pseuds/CalicoYorki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No more words, to be said, or heard. You are Kurloz Makara, and in one night, your love and your piety were broken over your head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No More

Your name? Yes, that's clear to you now. You're KURLOZ MAKARA. For a while, the terror was truly liberating. It liberated you of your sanity, it liberated you of your senses, it liberated you of your past and your future and every passing moment seemed about to shatter. You almost wanted it to shatter, didn't you? You'd rather let it all come crashing down, you just wanted to be able to chill for an eternity to come down from the terror, but your own motherfucking screams just fed into themselves. You screamed, you screamed, you motherfucking screamed without any words and couldn't hear yourself think, you couldn't hear anything, you couldn't hear her.

But now you hear her, don't you? Yes you do motherfucker. Your head's spinning, your eyes are out of focus, you're shaking in the dredges of fright, your throat is raw and your indigo blood is cold as ice, but you can hear her sobbing and whimpering and shouting for you. You finally understand, you get your motherfucking understand on, and despite how afraid you are of the whole of goddamn Creation at this time, you still manage to find the one thing that's most precious to you. You hold her close to you, let her tears and snot and blood cover your bare chest, as her ears trickle with celadon blood. You try to murmur to her, but it's not long before the terrible truth drops on your motherfucking head. You sob, too, before you try to scream for her to reply. It doesn't even matter how you cringe at the thought of making it worse, because you can't make it worse, you shit-for-brains, weak-of-faith motherfucker. She's crying louder than even when she knocked the wind out of herself during a bad fall, years ago. And you know why. You'd be crying, too, if you couldn't hear any consolations to your pain.

Now you're crying too. You scream at the ceiling, you plead for the Messiahs to give her back what you took, even if they have to take your arms and your legs and your heart and your soul, just to make your matesprit whole again. No one answers back, no, no, not a motherfucking peep. You gnash your teeth, tears renewed, until your teeth snap off the tip of your tongue. Somehow, it feels mighty right, that pain to dull your guilt. Even as your beloved continues to cry, and holds you tight like you're her only lifeline in a flood, you continue to bite and chew and rip and tear. You don't let a drop of indigo fall on her head, you knock back that motherfucker that allowed you to hurt her, and you wash it down with every last bit of the blood, until it slowly, slowly, slowly comes to a stop. Eventually, you dare to pull away and look down at her. You wish you didn't.

She's an absolute mess, her face is covered with olive smears, and even though she's cried herself right to sleep, the scared, hurt, and maybe even betrayed look on her face is still fresh. Guttural, choked, painful sobs wrack your body as you lay her down and tuck her in. You would look for Mituna to talk to, or Aranea, or Porrim, hell, even that skeevy motherfucker Cronus - But newsflash, you bastard, you've come down with a case of lacking a tongue! But speaking of Porrim, she did leave you a needle and some spools of thread in case you or Meulin couldn't make it to her for mending tears in your clothes. That'll do nicely.

By the time Meulin wakes up, you've put the last touches on your silence. You try to go to her, but she begins crying again. "WHAT DID YOU DOOOOOOOOO," she screams, "I, I, I WOULD HAVE, HAVE, FORGIVEN YOUUUUUUUUU! KURLOZ, I PITY YOU! YOU, YOU DIDN'T HAVE, TO........." She's cut off by a gag. Cold, numb, hollow, you help her to the ablution trap just in time. She's right. She's motherfucking right. For better or worse, Meulin would have forgiven you in a heartbeat. All you've done now is made life harder for you, too.

You didn't atone for shit. There was no point in trying to punish yourself for Meulin's sakes. And the Mirthful Messiahs? The motherfuck do you think mutilating yourself would amount to in their eyes? That is, if they do even exist, to allow this despair to descend upon your motherfucking life.

Now, you have a lifetime of barriers to share with your Meulin.


End file.
